


What makes a house a home

by wisherbystarlight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, dereks a super sap, except Derek's family, moving in, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisherbystarlight/pseuds/wisherbystarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek reflects while helping Stiles move in. For a tumblr prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	What makes a house a home

**Author's Note:**

> For whydouwantaname and anjaar2708 on tumblr, kinda wish this was longer but oh well. Sorry if Derek is out of character, I like writing him as content and sometimes make him too content.

Stiles stretched languidly out on the couch, breathing out an exaggerated yawn, but all his efforts got him were matching glares from his father and Derek. The similarities in the looks were slightly unsettling. He groaned before sitting back up, “How much stuff do I actually have, do you really still need me?”  
Derek rolled his eyes and turned away to hide his fond smile. He couldn’t stay mad, not today. The house was finally done thanks to an entire summer’s work and Derek was grateful that he hadn’t had to hire builders, the scent of pack surrounding him calming his nerves about being in a house so similar to the old one. The only things that kept him from a full blown panic during the designing and building had been Stiles’ touches- custom rooms for pack members, labeled accordingly, a game room that branched off from the living room, a training room in place of the basement’s dungeon. Stiles made sure the house was never too similar and Derek never felt like they were trying to replace memories.  
And now, it was done. Isaac was already technically living with him, but he spent his time house hopping around the pack. Erica and Boyd would stay with him whenever they were home on break, their estranged families almost grateful for the reprieve. Derek woke some mornings to find Allison or Lydia or Kira in their rooms and never asked questions, just made pancakes with chocolate chips and waited til they were ready to rant about whatever made them want to leave their own homes or dorms. Jackson pretended he never wanted to be there, that he was only there to make sure Danny and Lydia were safe, but he never put up a fight when pack movie nights turned into pack sleepovers turned into entire pack weekends. Scott would show up more weekends than not to use the game room, claiming the systems were better than his own, and fall asleep on the futon with his controller dangling from his hand.  
Stiles, who had decided against college in favor of writing “fantasy” novels about their adventures and training his spark with Deaton, was the biggest surprise. He was at the house so often, Derek was often surprised when he wasn’t. He would come home after a run to find dinner on the table and the pack crowded around, some bitching but all waiting for him to return because Stiles said they couldn’t eat until he did. On bad nights, the nights where he still couldn’t sleep because the past and the could-have-beens plagued his thoughts, he would go down for fresh air and find Stiles on the couch, aimlessly flipping channels or warming up leftovers. Stiles knew how to care without suffocating and it was exactly what the pack, no, what Derek needed.  
Eventually, on one of those nights where he couldn’t sleep, Derek looked over at Stiles in his pajamas with sleep-ruffled hair and realized that somewhere along the way, Stiles had become more of his home than the house was. In his sleep-deprived state, he didn’t even realize he had said it out loud until Stiles laughed and mussed his hair up the way he used to hate but now made him smile and said, “Well no shit Sherlock, I pretty much live here, took you long enough to notice.”  
“Well why don’t you?” Derek asked, mentally cringing at how blunt he was. “Live here, I mean. Move in. With me.”  
Stiles’ grin had lit up his eyes and he practically launched across the couch to him, “I was waiting for the invitation, my socially inept sourwolf.” That night had been their first kiss of many, their lips slotting together perfectly, time almost standing still.  
To Derek’s pleasant surprise and Stiles’ amusement, not a single member of the pack said anything when Stiles sit himself down in Derek’s lap the next night for the movie. Derek took it for the blessing it was and pulled his boyfriend in closer, nuzzling into his neck to breathe in his scent. Scott leaned over at the end of the night and in a quiet whine asked, “Does this mean I finally have to help you move all those boxes you packed up?” and Stiles blushed and Derek laughed and it felt like family.  
So now, Stiles was being lazy, but Derek knew it was partially because he had been up all night, excited for the next day. He only knew that because Stiles had slipped into his room with the full intent of using his wakefulness for “more interesting things than tv.” He grabbed his boyfriends arm and pulled him off the couch, “Come on, only a few more boxes and then Lydia and Allison are coming with take-out from that Chinese place you like.” He smiled at Stiles’ little happy dance and they set off down the stairs, passing Isaac and Scott on the way down, and picked up the last two boxes. Derek pressed a kiss to his cheek, ignoring the taunts from Erica, who was entirely unhelpful and lounging on the front lawn, about how disgusting they were, and followed Stiles into their home.


End file.
